"Look at this race car, Mommy! I wish I could have a race car. I wish I could ride in a race car. I would ride in the race car that is a sports car and go real, real fast in the race car like a rocket ship in space. Would you want to ride in a race car? Yeah, yeah so cool. This race car that is a sports car. I wish I could have one. Can we have one? What's it called again? A sports car? That's right, that's right..."
Almost completely one-sided conversations like this go on quite often in my home. If written accurately, there would be few spaces between words and almost everything would be written in bold and italics. If you've met Aiden (or any typical 3 year old) you know what I mean when I say, he really likes to talk. I mean really. After years of teaching and waiting for him to be able to communicate, it's really pretty cool to be able to converse and hear him talk himself through stuff. Some nights it takes an hour to get through bed time routine simply because we get caught up in conversation. I LOVE it. I love our conversations, I love that he loves to communicate. However, some days I just can't keep up. Some days I need a little break. Some days I need quiet.
Well I have an extremely busy week ahead of me: classes all day and 3 nights. It's just for a week and then I'll level out to just the night classes, but I was extremely thankful when my mother-in-law offered to take Aiden to stay with his cousins this week. So today I buckled him into his grandparent's car, kissed him and hugged him multiple times before forcing myself to actually say good bye. I think my heart cracked a little. Aiden, on the other hand, was completely content to wave his farewell, anxious to get to his cousin's to race cars and watch Mickey Mouse together (I think it's the little boy equivalent of drinking beer and watching sports).
Today was... quiet. We did our typical Sunday routine. Enjoyed the simplicity of caring for only one child--and actually getting alone time during Gabriel's nap. It was nice. It was quiet. I found myself wondering why Gabriel was so quiet (Do you think Gabriel is feeling ok? He's so quiet... Yeah, he's always quiet, by the way) and unnecessarily pointing things out to Aaron (Look that the airplane, Aaron! Can you see it up in the sky?). I didn't realize how draining it can be to be with someone all the time, even someone so very dear to me. So the quiet? Wonderful. And needed. Still at the end of the day I have to admit I found myself missing the sound of cars crashing into walls, the conversation that comes along with walks to the park, and the undying curiosity of a three-year-old. I almost forgot how quiet "quiet" can be.